


All I Want for Christmas

by inthebackoftheimpala (Wishme)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, It's A Terrible Life AU kinda, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:58:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishme/pseuds/inthebackoftheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover and his best friend and tech-guru Charlie drags him into the company Secret Santa exchange. He may or may not have a crush on a certain guy from accounting and his friends may or may not conspire to make this crush a reality</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas

  

 _“Victor Henrickson_ ” the slip in his hands reads. Dean stares at it, willing it to be like one of those secret picture Sam loved as a kid that turned into a dolphin or some shit, but only with names. No matter how long he stares at it or through it, the name doesn’t morph into the one he’d hoped to see.  Charlie leans over, straining to see, and he snaps his hand shut. “No looking, Bradbury! That’s cheating.” She wrinkles her nose at him, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Dean snorts and she jostles him.

 

“Show you mine if you show me yours,” she offers.

 

Knowing she won’t give it up until she knows and assuming that she doesn’t have him, he palms her the paper with the name of his officemate. “Hey,” she exclaims, “you lucked out. At least you know the guy, what with seeing his face across the desk every day. You could’ve gotten someone in like, accounting or something, that you’ve never met.”

 

Dean’s face falls just enough for Charlie to catch it, “Or not. Hold on a second.” She gapes at him, “That guy. You wanted that guy. The one in accounting. Oh, my god. You have a crush. _On that guy in accounting_.”

 

“Shut up.” Dean bites out, fully aware that there are people from every fucking department here and seriously whose idea was it to do a company-wide Secret Santa? There are like 300 employees at Sandover and most of them work fifteen floors apart and have never laid eyes on each other. But that’s the point according to Ms. Becky Rosen, HR Director Extraordinaire. Dean had only replied to the original email asking for participants because Charlie had caught him at a weak moment.  He regretted it the moment Ms. Rosen had opened her mouth. “Team Building,” she’d enthused just thirty minutes before. “We’re like _family_ here at Sandover and in the spirit of the holiday season we just want to bring us all together.”

 

 _Family, my ass._ Dean glowers at his slip. He and Charlie move forward to log their selections with the annoyingly effervescent Ms. Rosen and she takes the names down with an exaggerated finger over her mouth, “Shhhh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

 

Dean goans and slumps back up to his desk. He doesn’t notice Charlie is missing until he’s back on the sales floor. _Whatever_ , he grouses and heads back to calming down his local reps.

 

Five rolls around and Charlie pops up at his desk and holds out a slip of paper, “Here.” She looks entirely too pleased with herself and Dean leans back in his chair, as far away from her extended arm as possible. “What did you do”

 

“Nothing,” she grins innocently. “You know, other than grant your fondest wish. But if you have no thanks for your personal Good Witch of the South, then I’ll take it with me.”She flaps the paper in her hand and Dean stares at it. _Holy Shit._

“You didn’t.”

 

“I did. Don’t ask how. Just, let me know how it goes. And give me the other one.”

 

She leans over and swaps the slips of paper, leaving behind the one that says _Castiel Novak_ in her wake.

 

Dean stares at it. It doesn’t change. _Castiel_.

\---

 

He ignores it for a week before walking into Charlie’s office down the hall and saying, “Take it back. I can’t do it.”

 

Without looking away from her screen she grabs a figurine from the shelf and plunks it in front of Dean, “What Would Hermione Do?”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. What Would Hermione Do? She stood up to the Dark Lord. You can get a cute guy a scarf or a tie or a six pack or whatever. Get over yourself and do it, Winchester.”

 

\--

He makes Sam come shopping with him.  His brother knows all about nice things. Not that Dean doesn’t. He likes his starched shirts and suspenders and designer leather shoes. He knows what to buy himself and what makes him look good. But he has no idea what to buy for someone with stupidly blue eyes and hair that goes every direction who wears a trench coat two sizes too big. Not that he’s paid attention. Shut up.

 

“Dean,” Sam snaps his fingers in font of his brother’s face. “You still with me? You still breathing?”

 

“Ugh,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up and help me find something.”

 

He nixes his cologne and the six ties Sam suggests. They ponder cufflinks and poker chip sets and brandy decanters. He hates everything.

 

Later that night, just as he’s falling asleep he gets a crazy idea. Heart in his throat, he goes online and that’s that. He’s got the gift and there’s two days to spare. Now he just has to wait.

\--

Becky’s original idea was to have the unveiling at the company Holiday Party, but since not even a quarter of the staff participated, she settled for doing the exchange just before the shindig instead. Presents were dropped off at her office that morning and brought down to the venue in piles by some hapless interns. Surprisingly, everyone who participated shows up, some more visibly exited than others. Victor and Charlie, arguably his best friends other than Sam, flank Dean and he refuses to let his nerves show. _Suck it up, Winchester_.

 

“Ahem!” Becky clears her throat and gestures to the table where all the presents lay. “Come claim your gift. And, be orderly please!” The last part ends in a yelp when Wanda from reception steps on her toes. Dean and his friends grab a beer from the back table first, and he’s totally not watching Castiel slide up to the table, and then wander into the fray. There’s an oblong box with his name in neat script. Just, “ _Dean_ ” and nothing else.

 

It’s wrapped in butcher paper and tied with a simple red string. He slips the bow free and slides a finger under the tape, enjoying the crackle of paper. This is his favorite part of Christmas, the moment right before the present is revealed. It’s one part worry and three parts anticipation and it’s perfect. Inside the box is a scarf of greens and grays and it’s incredibly soft. Dean gathers it up to his face and inhales—it smells like book paper and peppermint. Smiling softly, he wraps it around his neck before he looks up to find his friends staring at him. Charlie is grinning and Victor raises his eyebrow, “Do you need a moment? We don’t want to interrupt.”  Dean punches Victor in the shoulder. They got chainmail earrings and a set of steel collar stays respectively and are pretty happy all around, but Dean knows his scarf is something special.

 

“Okay, everyone!” Becky claps her hands. “Now that you’ve got your gifts, it’s time to guess your Secret Santa. You can do this however you wish, reveal yourself or have your recipient try to find you. Good luck!”

 

 

Charlie makes a beeline for Jordan, her cube-mate and Victor heads towards Maria from marketing, leaving Dean alone like a dope to look around for Castiel. But the guy is _nowhere_. It’s not like the room is huge or anything, but Dean takes a lap around the inner perimeter and there’s no sign of him. There’s a fist sized pit in Dean’s gut as he loops back around and heads towards Charlie and then there he is. He pulls up short and they’re nearly standing toe to toe and Dean can see the creases by Castiel’s eyes and the slight smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth. “Uh, hi,” he stutters. _Smooth one, Winchester._

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is deeper than Dean remembered from hearing it in meetings and in the elevator. “I hope you like the scarf.”

 

“It’s yours?” Dean asks. “I mean, you gave this to me?”

 

Castiel nods.

 

“It’s great,” Dean says. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re very welcome. My sister spins very good yarn—it’s very warm.” Castiel’s eyes don’t leave Dean’s, neither of them step back.

 

“Dude, did you _make_ this?” Dean fingers the fabric, astonished.

 

“Ah, yes.” Castiel’s ears pinken and Dean finds himself grinning like an idiot. He’d never had anyone make him anything before. Not like this and certainly not someone he didn’t know very well.

 

“Wow. Um, wow. Thank you. This is really great, really.” Dean stumbles.

 

Castiel smirks, “Yes, you’ve said.”

 

“Eh.” Dean colors, “Um, have you found yours yet?”

 

“Not quite yet. I’m afraid I’m not very good at guessing this sort of thing and none of my friends in my department know who had me. So, I’m just waiting to see once everyone has paired off.”

 

 

“Clever,” Dean agrees, ignoring the way his stomach flutters. “What did you get?”

 

Castiel pulls out a plain envelope and examines the content, “Two tickets to Handel’s Messiah. I thought it was sold out.”

 

Dean grins, “So you like them?”

 

“Like them? Absolutely. It’s a beautiful piece and this production is supposed to be stellar.” Castiel glows.

 

“So you’ll go?” Dean ventures.

 

“Excuse me?” Castiel’s brow furrows and Dean is torn between laughing and kissing it off his face, but he does neither.

 

“Saturday, you want to go with me?” Dean nods towards the tickets still in Castiel’s hand as his stomach seizes.

 

Castiel gapes, “These are from you?”

 

“Yeah?” All of a sudden the idea seems completely stupid and creepy and Dean panics. “I mean, it’s cool if you didn’t want to or anything. I just thought…”

 

The last part of his sentence disappears as warm lips are pressed against his and holy shit he’s _kissing the cute guy from accounting_.  Castiel steps back, eyes wide “Ah, sorry. I should’ve…” And then Dean’s the one swooping in because they are _idiots_ and Castiel is warm and his lips are soft and his back is surprisingly muscular for an accountant and _focus Winchester cute guy_. They part and both have dumb little grins on their faces.

 

Clearing his throat, Dean says “So, Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Castiel replies, his voice somehow even deeper. It does things to Dean and he really doesn’t want to talk about it, especially in front of the coworkers who they both just now notice are gaping at them. Blushing Dean turns away, but Castiel grabs his hand. He presses a soft kiss to Dean’s cheek, “It’s a date.”

 

Dean watches Castiel leave, turning back to his friends to see a crying-he’s–laughing-so-hard Victor and Charlie flashing a double thumbs up. His friends are _assholes_ and they have some explaining to do and he owes Pamela big time for pulling strings for those tickets. But he’s got a date on Saturday with Castiel from Accounting and things are fucking _awesome_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to deanhugchester for the prompt "I wish I got someone else for Secret Santa"


End file.
